Zombie Honey
by Amelia Island
Summary: Ema unwittingly lands a starring role as a voice actress in a video game, thanks in no small part to the behind-the-scenes efforts of her older brother, Natsume. Of course, the twins can't be far behind, and the second round battle for Ema's heart begins. E/N
1. Chapter 1

1

* * *

The meeting wasn't going well.

The game they were discussing had been in Development Hell for years, and had gone through more titles and premises than could be comfortably listed on both sides of the room's borrowed whiteboard. Natsume wished he had borrowed two. All anyone could agree on at this point was that the meeting wasn't going well—that, and that the 'no smoking' sign posted outside the boardroom door could be interpreted as more of a guideline. Natsume rose, unnoticed, and cranked a window, his favorite brand already hanging precariously off his frowning lips.

"Look, if we can't reach an agreement tonight, I vote we scratch the project," said the producer. "I've wasted too much time and money on this already. None of the big name voices appear interested in coming on board. Everyone's turning to anime now."

"They _would_ be interested if we presented them with a script," the head writer pointed out. "But everything my team and I have brought to the table so far has been vetoed. How am I supposed to come up with the new material you're requesting if I don't know what actors to write for? What audience? The zombie trope has been played out. Maybe the games are still going strong in popularity, but every storyline has been done to death, pun unintended. There's just no new ideas for me to mine."

Natsume gazed past his own weary reflection, out across the cityscape, privately wishing he was at home in his apartment. Tsubaki and Azusa had probably torn his drapes to ribbons by now, unless…

He was the CEO, so no one noticed or cared when he pulled out his cellphone and unlocked it with a practiced swipe. There was a message in his inbox.

Ema.

_Natsume,_

_I remembered that you told me you had an important meeting tonight, so I stopped by to feed the cats for you. I hope you don't mind the intrusion. Masaomi said he thought it would be a good idea, and he let me borrow his key. I don't see him very often. If you like, I can return it to you directly._

_I know you will bring your all to the meeting. I can't wait to hear about the newest game… or wait, would that be a secret? I won't ask you anymore about it if it is. Juli and I look forward to playing it someday._

_Ema_

His heart had lodged itself in his throat the moment he saw the name of the sender; slowly, it sank back into its usual place the further he read. By the end of Ema's message, his entire body felt flooded with warmth, with relief. Once again, she had proven her thoughtfulness, seen to things even the brothers themselves sometimes forgot so they could focus all their attention and energy on whatever task was at hand. How had any of them ever gotten along without her before?

How had he?

Voices continued to rise and fall at the long table as the team pitched ideas and traded passive aggressions, but their exchanges faded into the background, becoming white noise, as Natsume stared probingly at the softly glowing screen of his phone. He read her e-mail over again, trying to see between the lines, to find evidence of anything she had thought but left unsaid, any trace of text typed and then omitted from the final message. She had left him no openings, none at all.

Still, for the first time that evening, he felt like he had at least something to work with.

_Ema,_

_You are never an intrusion. Please consider my home as you consider the Sunrise Residence. You are always welcome._

He erased the last sentence.

_I am sure Tsubaki and Azusa were happy to have company. Thank you for being so thoughtful._

Again, he erased the last sentence. If this was what the head writer had to go through, he could certainly feel a modicum of sympathy for the scowling man seated at the far end of the table with his arms crossed. Natsume stared out the window again, his gaze lingering on the skyline.

_Feel free to bring the spare key by my office at a time that is convenient. I can tell you more about the game._

_Natsume_

Not his most eloquent, but electronically, Natsume was known for his signature abruptness. In recent days it had contributed greatly to the rift that had formed between him and Subaru, though the man himself had no real way of knowing how he came across. He was certain Ema would understand, maybe even appreciate, his brevity now, especially after…

Memories of her graduation party flooded back to him: of the moment they had shared on the balcony, of the passion he had felt for her and his loss of control. He had been ashamed of his behavior then, and he was ashamed of it now. Yet a defiant part of him wondered: _what do I have to feel guilty about? How can anyone condemn a heart that knows precisely what it wants?_

"What precisely do you want, Natsume?"

All eyes in the boardroom were trained on him. The young CEO turned, reinhabiting the present long enough to consider their request. He was tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see if maybe, by some small, serendipitous chance, Ema was still there. But he had promised to tell her more about the game, and right now, they had made more steps backward in their discussion than they had forward, if the scribbled-over whiteboard was anything to measure by.

"I want to consider the female audience." His words hovered in the air above them all like smoke from a dying cigarette. He turned and flicked his stub out the open window, releasing it to the night air. It fell like an ember, a shooting star. If he saw a shooting star tonight, would Ema see it too? Could he call her? How much pressure was too much? But he didn't want to pressure her—he just wanted to see her.

"You said there were no more stories to explore, but I think you're wrong. I think we have yet to explore the most important story of all: the story of the female protagonist. More than half of our audience as of our last release was women—"

—_thanks, in no small part, to my brothers—_

"—so why do we continue to ignore this demographic? It's a reflection of us, and a poor one. For now, the company remains a boy's club, but it's outside perception that keeps us this way, and our ideas are becoming stale. I want to send a message to women—to tell them we are thinking of them. Their interests, their wishes and desires, are being noticed, and I want this to come across in a big way. The main character should be female."

"I'm in," the producer said abruptly. The boardroom erupted into chatter, many of it encouraged, though there was no lack of skeptical voices attempting to rise above the chaos. Natsume's expression remained unchanged, until he happened to glance down, his attention drawn by a blinking light on his phone. His eyes rounded, and he quickly excused himself from the room.

"Natsume…"

In the hallway outside, he shed his suit and seated himself in the darkness beyond the wedge of light cast by the door, placing the phone beside. He hooked a finger through his tie and loosened it, closing his eyes, losing himself in her voice as the speakerphone conducted her music.

"I'm sorry to bother you like this again tonight, only… I keep playing through that one level we talked about… oh no, I'm not calling you for advice or anything like that, it's just... I think I might be the only one awake right now. The house can feel so lonely sometimes—isn't that a strange thing to say, with thirteen brothers?—but I guess not everyone is here after all. Masaomi is working late, Kaname has left for his training… and with Iori, Fūto, and Subaru gone… and then you…

"Oh, before I forget, Natsume, when I fed Tsubaki and Azusa, I noticed that you didn't have a lot of food left in your fridge. I hope… I'm sorry if this was an intrusion, I know what you said earlier, but I… I did go to the store for you. I know you like breakfast food, and I bought some of that fried chicken we had that time at…"

For as long as he had known her, Ema's voice had never faltered; rather, it always caught in the most attractive way, cutting itself off in breathy, surprised intakes. Natsume found it captivating, even hypnotic, the way she spoke. She always hedged, if she didn't break away completely, always humbly offering the space her own conversation point would have occupied to the other speaker. It was fascinating to hear her monologue now, alone, with no interruptions save those presented by her own unknowable thoughts.

"… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave this long of a message. You must still be in your meeting, of course. I hope I'm not interrupting. I can come by the office tomorrow. I won't stay long. I know you will be working hard. I will take good care of your key until then. Good night, Natsume."

"Good night, little sister," Natsume responded quietly. He reached down and saved the voicemail.

"Was that your sister on the phone?"

Startled, Natsume turned his head to find the producer standing in the doorway. There were others filing out past him, relieved to finally be going home, but the producer's attention remained raptly fixed on Natsume.

"My stepsister, yes. She just called to tell me good night."

"I want her." Natsume's eyes widened. "I want that voice. For the character. You can arrange it, can't you? If you can get me her, you will have my full support for this project. The writers can get you samples of the script we've already started to work out as early tomorrow. Does that work? For the audition, I mean."

Natsume's head was already reeling from vertigo before he even had a chance to stand. "You want us to hire an unknown?"

"She won't be unknown for long. And with brothers—sorry, _step_brothers—like the Asahina twins, who combined already have more than a hundred projects beneath their belts, I have the utmost faith in her marketability. We're already facing the unknown here with your proposed plot, Natsume. Why not bring one more onboard?"

Nastume gazed at him wearily. "We don't even have a name for the project yet."

The producer flapped a hand. "Oh, that was decided too, while you were out. What do you think of 'Zombie Honey'?"

"I think I'm going to need another cigarette," said Natsume.


	2. Chapter 2

2

* * *

He should have gotten a time frame: he always asked for one, even with family. Not knowing when his step-sister was going to show up was driving Natsume crazy, making him antsy in a way no pending meeting ever had. He couldn't count the number of times he had loosened and unloosened his tie, debating whether he should go casual or professional. What he longed for most was a cigarette, but he had exhausted his last pack the night previous, smoking one after another out the open window of his apartment until he was certain the neighbors upstairs must have assumed he had installed an illegal chimney. On his desk was a paper-clipped stack of some of the preliminary dialogue dreamed up by the writing team in what, he suspected, had been an all-night effort to impress the producer. The character sides had been written for the as of yet unnamed female protagonist.

A tentative knock sounded at the door, and Natsume reared back in his chair. He had forgotten his secretary had asked to take her lunch, abandoning him in his office without a front line. The man quickly swept his hands about his desk to make it tidy, accidentally knocking over the family wedding photo. Maybe it was better if it stayed down. "Come in," he bid his visitor in a voice tightly controlled, even as he nearly lost his pencil holder over the side of his desk. It fell into an already open drawer, and Natsume slammed it closed.

Ema didn't immediately enter, but rather paused to lean around the corner, as if the knock hadn't been enough to announce her presence and prepare him for a visitation. It hadn't. Her hair, a luxuriant brown, had been released from its usual ponytail, and heaped itself heavily on her thin shoulders. She wore a cable-knit cashmere sweater he had never seen before, and… Natsume in took his breath when he saw his scarf looped around her neck. Had the temperature outside dropped in the time he'd been behind his desk, or was she wearing it for him?

She looked embarrassed, and Natsume realized he had stood up at her arrival. He quickly sat back down, reaching up to loosen his tie, before discovering he had already done so.

"You don't have to stand there, Ema. Come in."

His redirect worked, and the girl flushed at her own hesitance. She obliged him, coming into the room to seat herself across from him. He saw his apartment key glint in the creased pink palm of her hand.

"I hope I'm not troubling you."

"You never trouble me."

The lie was effortless. He stared at her, and she gazed back, stricken by the intensity of his look, until he was certain she had forgotten even the weight of the key nestled in her hand. His gaze mapped every inch of her, taking in every detail their time apart had stolen from his memory. It had been less than a month, but to Natsume, it felt like years. They had maintained contact through e-mail, usually his preferred form of communication, but their messages to one another these past weeks had been brief, and it was usually Ema who initiated conversation.

It was his stepsister who glanced away first, dropping her gaze to her lap, before recovering enough of her courage to meet the level of his desk. Natsume was now gazing out the window.

"I hope that's true. I mean… it looks like you have a lot of work," she said sheepishly. His eyes tracked back to his desk without any movement from his head. She must be referring to the character sides stacked atop his inbox. _Her_ character sides.

Natsume didn't usually await invitations—none of the Asahina siblings did—and this seemed like as good as any he was going to get. He rocked forward in his chair, before thinking better of making a grab for the script. He laced his fingers at the last moment.

"It's progress," he said slowly. "It's a new script that's just crossed my desk. I would love your opinion on it."

"My opinion?" The color sprang back into her cheeks. "But I don't know anything about that sort of thing! Wouldn't you rather ask someone else?"

"You know what you like, don't you?"

Ema said nothing, just stared askance at her own shoulder, as if suddenly aware that the sweater she wore itched uncomfortably, and Natsume realized the question had held more weight than he had originally intended. He pushed on, fighting to curb some of his intensity. He couldn't make this personal; this was about _her_, not _them_. "Ema, you must realize by now that I hold your opinion in the highest regard. I wouldn't ask this of just anyone. The project is still in pre-production, so this script is, for all intents and purposes, confidential. You are an expert gamer, and an expert on my company's games in particular. I consider your input as vital as if I had hired an independent contractor."

The words sounded neat, his explanation uniform, but Natsume realized too late it had been the wrong thing to say. Ema shook her head slowly, then with enough force to displace her hair.

"Please, Natsume, I'm just here to return your key. I should really get going, they'll be expecting me back…"

"Have lunch with me," he said suddenly. The invitation came without warning, taking them both by surprise. He tried to convince himself that the move was strategic, but he couldn't banish the mental picture of his brothers' faces gathered around a dinner table, laughing, with Ema and her squirrel sandwiched happily amongst them. They had her to themselves almost every night—he couldn't let this opportunity slip through his grasp.

They both rose, Natsume pulling his coat with him. Ema laced her hands, looking uncertain… until her stomach broke the silence, giving an agreeable grumble. The girl looked horrified, but it was all the consent Natsume needed. His face softened.

"Please. It's my way of saying thank you for looking after the twins."

Ten minutes later and they were seated across from one another at the arcade. _Same table,_ Natsume reflected, though he wasn't sure what to make of the coincidence. Last time they had been here together, things had been very different.

He watched Ema unwind his scarf from around her neck, his heart skipping a beat. The professional suit he wore had always felt like armor from the outside, but maybe he would need it now to keep contained what was going on within. As she slipped her phone into her purse and leaned to stow it beneath her seat, he slid his out of his pocket and placed it on his knee, concealed beneath the table. He had left the script in his office, and left out the part where he had called her in to audition entirely from their conversation.

Time to improvise.

"I've missed you."

He remembered seeing the words in the script, spoken by another character to the female protagonist. He pitched his voice low, in an effort to disguise the wooden, rehearsed quality any of his own attempted line readings usually carried, but the words sounded sincere. Natsume thumbed a button on his phone as Ema glanced up quickly from her bubble tea.

"I've missed you, too…" Her voice wavered, before her face pinched with pained conviction. "But it's for the best that we don't see each other."

"I disagree," he said at once.

"I don't want to hurt you," she pleaded plaintively, and Natsume felt another tremor in his heart. "I don't want to hurt any of you. You are all I have in the world, my family… and you, I think of you especially as…" Her face flushed, as if she was gripped by a fever, and Natsume thought he had caught it too. His pulse hammered in his ears.

"You think of me especially?" He had forgotten how to breathe.

"I think of you always. I mean, I—"

Distantly, he heard someone call their number. The legs of his chair squealed beneath him, the phone set to one side of the table, forgotten, as Ema clasped her hands over her mouth and likewise rose. He made it around the table before she could escape, his hands coming down on either side of the railing he had her backed against. It had been aggressive and impulsive, but on the inside he saw the move for what it really was: purely desperate.

"Ema." He was so close that the whisper stirred her hair. Ema gave her head a shake, before her hands fell away and her eyes squeezed closed in defeat.

"I think of you as _more_ than family. I think of you as my _best friend!_" she blurted. "Every day I wish I could see you and we could talk like we used to, but every day I remind myself that I… I can't do any of those things. Any hardship I face, I think of what you would say, and it makes me strong. But I don't want to imagine what you would say—I want to hear those words on your lips, and be reassured, just like I used to be. You are my…" But she blinked her eyes open again and trailed off, her courage failing when she saw how close he was standing. Natsume brought his hand up to the curve of her cheek, his fingers arced like a check mark, but he couldn't quite bring himself to touch her,

How could he have been so blind? How could he have been so selfish? He had allowed her to say her piece on the balcony, but had he ever really been listening? Or had he just been awaiting the moment she would finish speaking, certain he could seal her uncertain feelings with a kiss?

_I think of you as my best friend._ The words shook him in a way no stammered confession of love ever could, reaching down deep inside him to pull back a fisted hand and reveal the truth he had been blind to, a reciprocal reality he had never even begun to acknowledge: she was _his._ He never spoke to anyone else in his family about his feelings, on _anything_—no one except Ema. No one else took an interest in his work or his world, except for the twins, when their career paths necessarily crossed; no one worried about him living separate and alone like she did.

He had lost more on the Sunrise balcony than the first round of some silly sibling rivalry. He had nearly lost this, something infinitely more precious.

Ema was staring at him with wide eyes, rigid in the cage of his arms. Of course Natsume was still a man in love, and in that moment his every instinct compelled him to kiss her senseless… but the moment was banished when he smiled faintly and brought his hand up to shift her bangs aside. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Um… order number fifty-three?" stammered the red-faced cashier from somewhere behind them. Natsume shot an arm out to seize the tray without looking, and the employee fled back to his register in relief.

"Thank you… for listening." Ema blushed, but he could feel her relax physically, and Natsume was gratified.

"Thank you for telling."

He moved back around the table to his seat, the weight of the last month lifting from his shoulders, until his eyes leapfrogged suddenly to his phone. Horrified, he slid it from the table with a quick sleight-of-hand as Ema sat back down, smiling happily to herself, completely unaware that listening ears on the other line had just heard her first audition.


End file.
